LinkedIn asked me to answer “What do you do if your confidence in the workplace is lacking?”

I, of course, provided a detailed answer rather than something abrupt, glib (my opinion), and which left the reader with no explanations or solution paths.

Hence I’m posting this here. Hope it helps.

What do you do if your confidence in the workplace is lacking?

What do you do if your confidence in the workplace is lacking? Lacking confidence in something you want or are led to do can make you feel like a victim and that’s not a happy place to be.

First thing I’d suggest is getting away from the workplace; take a sick day, mental health day, PTO, vacation day, do some thing and/or go some place where work isn’t in your face. This can be in your living room, kitchen, bedroom, den, balcony, at the beach, in a field, your backyard, in your garden, your porch, the woods, he mountains, at the mall, wherever.

Second thing: Calm yourself. Lacking confidence in anything you wish to excel at can be a soul killer and the soul killing often manifests as anxiety, misplaced anger, irritation, making negatives where none exist, and so on.

Third thing: Decide if it’s a genuine lack of ability on your part or a lack of recognition on management’s and peers’ parts.

Third thing sub A: Do you lack confidence because you’re genuinely unsure of what you’re doing, how to do your work, or what’s required of you? Ask yourself if you have the proper training for your job or need some training. Definitely let management know, ask peers to help you do something, sign up for a course at a local tech school or college. Basically seek help and guidance. Should a genuine request for help and guidance go unanswered, mocked, derided, or ignored, GET A NEW JOB ASAP! You’re in an unhealthy work environment and one way or another your work will affect all other aspects of your life negatively. Save yourself and those people and things you care about by taking care of yourself and finding a new job or new place to work.

Third thing sub B: Do you lack confidence because you’re not being recognized by management? Are you getting regular reviews? Regular reviews are required for good management-employee relations. Mention needing a review to your supervisor. They ignore the request? Ask to be transferred or find another job.

Third thing sub C: Do you lack confidence because your peers are unkind or harassing you? That’s an HR problem. Speak to your HR team and/or your Union rep. Again, no satisfaction? Time to move on.

I’ve written more on soul killing at Beware of Soul Killers and more about emotionally, physical, spiritual, and mental health in That Th!nk You Do

Note this doesn’t touch on lacking confidence in personal relationships. Let me know it there’s interest and I’ll write something about that, as well.

The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 43 Section V Mega Chapter 2 (part 3)

The Alibi – Chapter 43 Section V Mega Chapter 2 (part 3)

 
Seamus walked down Aer Lingus Flight 241’s jetway in a Hawaiin shirt, hiking shorts, riotous black hair against his roughened red skin, tablet tucked under one arm and phone in hand, all to the clacking of his Birkenstalks. He figured dressed like this he’d stand out easily enough for cousin Sean, who he didn’t see waiting for him.

“Probably getting me bags.”

The baggage claim carousel beeped and its red light began whirling as it vomited suitcases, backpacks, tightly bound battered boxes, and two baby walkers at his approach. He watched business people stand as the carousel brought their bags around, shifting from foot to foot, pacing but standing still, impatient to be off making money. Young couples stayed together, pointed, and laughed as they missed their luggage and watched it go around again. Parents left one to attend tired or excited children while they hurried after strollers, backpacks, gifts from the folks back home. One elderly couple struggled to get a large suitcase off the carousel and Seamus lifted it for them. “Let me help.”

The woman beamed. “You’re from Ireland. We just toured there for a week. Loved it.” She frowned as she looked at how he was dressed. “You don’t look like the Irish people we met, though.”

He exaggerated his brogue. “Ah, but you came over, to be sure, and had a crackin’ time.”

The woman’s smile returned.

“And don’t fret, missus. I got me Lucky Charms box, a red beard, green clothes, and a pair of shoes to mend and yay, a shilling in me purse to get by while I’m here.”

Both husband and wife scowled at him. The husband said, “Thanks for your help.” They turned and wheeled their suitcase away.

An exceedingly tall, elderly gentleman on the other side of the carousel from him didn’t pay attention to the traveling chaos. He smiled at children who gawked and pointed at him, dismissed parents chastising their children for being rude, and each time his face came up, he smiled at Seamus and nodded.

Seamus checked his watch. “Come on, Cousin. Traffic can’t be that bad this time of day. The morning’s just begun.” He called Sean on his phone. Voicemail. “Cousin, you know I came in Aer Lingus, right? You remember Aer Lingus? Your favorite airline? You always said it sounded like you’re going down on an angel?”

The carousel stopped gurgitating and people pulled, dragged, and towed suitcases, backpacks, bound boxes, and children to the buses and cabstands.

“Where’s me bags?” He looked around for the missing baggage office and the exceedlingly tall, elderly gentleman stepped aside. Seamus’ gymbag and travel kit sat beside him like exhausted travelers wanting a nap. The elderly gentleman smiled.

Seamus smiled and walked around the Carousel. “I think them’s mine, friend.”

The gentleman’s voice was silk on water. “Dia duit, an tOllamh O’Hearn.” He smiled at the shocked look on Seamus’ face. “I’m sorry, Professor O’Hearn, is my accent that weak? It’s been years since I spoke your beautiful tongue.”

“What’s this about? Where’s me cousin? Is he okay?”

“I’m told you and your cousin made a fascinating discovery. Or are about to. You’re here to confirm his findings, correct?”

“Who are you?”

“Forgive my rudeness. Introductions, of course. I’m John Willmette, Professor Emeritus, Investigative Forensics and a few other fields, Northeastern University. Call me Red.”

Red Willmette lifted Seamus’ gymbag and travelkit easily, walked to a security door, tapped a code, and it swung open. A middle-aged man in a non-descript blue business suit, revolver in hand, stood in what looked like a service hallway. He nodded and stood back.

Seamus stood at the carousel. Red Willmette turned to him and smiled. There were few people in baggage claim now and he heard the elderly gentleman speak as if they stood next to each other. “Please come with me. I don’t know where your cousin is. I’m here to help you find him and to learn a bit more about your incredible find.”

Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery)

Sniffing Out Fibonacci

Yes, everyone’s waking up from their winter slumbers.

Including Fibonacci, our most recent skunkly visitor.

Our association with Skunk started with Ferdinand and Larry.

Recently our neighborhood has experienced a plethora of skunk.

They let us know they’re about.

Unfortunately, it’s often after the fact.

Many of us have learned to be wary, to open our doors slowly, to look out our windows before venturing forth.

And to have a goodly supply of anti-skunk-stink available.

The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 43 Section V Mega Chapter 2 (part 2)

The Alibi – Chapter 43 Section V Mega Chapter 2 (part 2)

 
Sean sat in a prison with walls of living flesh. Something like seaweed hung over tunnel entrances. The seaweed looked like beaded curtains and his captors came and went without hesitation. He stepped through one upward sloping tunnel’s curtain and what looked like beads exploded against him. Thousands of little spiny things stuck to his divesuit – the only thing he was allowed to keep in his captivity – and the one or two which penetrated it and pricked his skin left him a convulsing heap on the rock floor.

Once he regained control of his movements, he got close enough to inspect wihtout touching.

Neuroblasts? Seaweed with neuroblasts? I’ve never heard of anything like that. Oh, Seamus, me cousin, what have I gotten us into?

The pool leading back to the ocean had so many torpedo and related rays in it you could walk across if you had to, but Sean had no desire to have two-hundred or more volts hit him from every angle imaginable.

Other than being an obvious prisoner and seeing to his vital needs – how did the torpedoes know when he had to shit and piss and move aside? – his captors didn’t interact with him. The same petite female brought him his meals – a collection of raw shell and finned fish, and some edible seaweeds – waited for him to finish, and removed whatever he didn’t eat only to throw it to the rays in the pool. The few times he saw a few gathered, they didn’t speak. Not with words, anyway, not in a way he could hear, although it was obvious they paid attention to each other, could direct each other’s gaze, communicated. They never seemed to argue. What he did experience was a slight frisson, like something lightly crawled on him, an insect needing to be brushed away. Each captor produced a slightly different frisson on his skin, as if he could feel rather than hear their different voices.

One petite female, whom he referred to as his warden, either ignored or couldn’t hear him every time he spoke to her. Once or twice the small, Asian looking fellow came with her and watched while she put his food down and waited. They communicated, or seemed to, and again Sean had no clue what was communicated or how it happened, only their movements, expressioins, their postures indicating something exchanged between them, and that annoying sense of frisson.

It didn’t help that day and night didn’t exist in this cave, his prison. The bioluminescent walls never fluctuated in their lighting or brilliance. Only his stomach, bowels, and bladder indicated time’s passage.

He dismissively chuckled. Think about his stomach and it growled an alert it was empty. As if listening, his warden came through the neuroblast curtain and an assortment of edibles and barely edibles on a wooden plate which looked like it’d been salvaged from some ancient sea wreck. Ocean delicacies he could never afford on land mingled with things he’d forgotten the names to which stared back at him with lethal eyes.

He waited until she put the plate down and backed away. “Are all of these edible?” He pointed. “Those two look like they’d rather eat me.” He caught a motion and looked up from the plate.

The small Asiatic man stood beside his warden. He pointed at the creature Sean was unsure of, pointed to his own mouth, and gave a thumbs-up.

It was the first time Sean had seen any of these beings do a roughly human gesture.

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Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery)

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